


faith trust and pixie dust

by badAquatic, orphan_account



Series: Trailerstuck [17]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, Crossdressing Kink, Drunk!Gamzee, Illustrated, Implied Torture, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, Oral Sex, gamzee is the best pixie ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 04:04:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badAquatic/pseuds/badAquatic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How does Tavros feel about his new relationship with the trailerpark's resident criminal (or one of the many, that is)?</p><p>Takes place after "no peak no fall no meaning".</p>
            </blockquote>





	faith trust and pixie dust

**Author's Note:**

> “All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.”  
> ― Troll J.M. Barrie, Pupa Pan

**== >Tavros: Get interrupted**

 

You are Tavros Nitram and it is Wednesday night. You are enjoying your summer vacation and freedom from your asshole boyfriend Hanael Gilpin—who’s bloated corpse is probably bobbing somewhere in the swamp thanks to the intervention of a certain purpleblood. You got your iHusk back from your father, Horuss, who seemed in a better mood this time around. You still don’t like him. You found that some wonderful soul has uploaded all fifty episode of Pupa Pan and the Gamblignants onto YouTube and you are currently on episode ten _(In Which Mikael Darlin has a dream about the repetillian who goes tick-tock and a mutantblood red beakbeast so Pupa Pan and the Lost Weaboos must explore to go see what it means_. _This episode_ _has one moment of flush flirtations, two moments of intense kismesisitude, and two moments of auspisticism.)_

That’s when you get a knock at your window. You sigh and pause the video just as Pupa Pan must once again auspitize between Wendee and Tinker Klaang. You look out the window and see a familiar painted face looking back at you. You sigh and open it. Gamzee is standing there and looking…quite lost. Well, he looks dirtier than he usually does. Dirty and confused with a dazed look in his eyes. 

You open the window, “Gamzee, what are you doing here? It’s near midnight.”

Gamzee blinks. “…this is your trailer?”

“Are you high?”

The purpleblood shrugs. You sigh, “My mother’ll shoot you if he catches you.”

“Is he here right now?”

You scratch your chin, “I’m not sure. He’s either here or he’s out in the swamps doing whatever he does out there. The point is, he’s not very…friendly towards coldbloods since Hanael. I told you about the snake incident…”

You trail off when you see the look in the purpleblood’s eyes. Oh gods. Why. Why can Gamzee be a scary looking ex-con one moment and a completely sad puppy sitting in the rain the next?

You sigh and extended a hand out of the window, “Oh gods. Don’t give me those eyes. Fine. Come in. Just don’t plan on staying long.”

Gamzee’s face lights up like a suburban mini-mansion on Winter Holiday, “Sure, Tavbro!”

You roll your eyes and held your sorta-boyfriend-not-sure-if-matesprit-yet-helpful-companion climb through your window. You feel like a ghetto version of Troll Romeo and Human Juliet (sans that whole ‘killing each other to spite our ancestors/parents thing’). Once you get him inside, Gamzee refuses to sit still. He’s a bundle of energy and he doesn’t smell of weed (for a change) but of alcohol. 

Gamzee picks up a plushy of Pikachu. “How much Fiduspawn stuff you got?”  
He squeezes the plush and jolts when it starts vibrating and its cheeks light up, “Holy shit! _It’s alive!_ ”

You groan and grab the plush animal, “It’s not alive. It’s just electronic. What are you doing?”

“It was boon-nickel shot night at The Vast Chug.” Gamzee mutters.

“ _Oh_ _gods.”_ you murmur. That explains the alcohol and the sudden evacuation of most of your neighborhood in direction of downtown, “How are you _not_ blacked out? How are you still standing? How are you still _breathing?_ ”

“ _Well._ ” Gamzee folds his arms and tries to remain upright, “Have you ever tried mixing daiquiris with… _Faygo Black?_ ”

“You mean the _caffeinated_ version of Faygo? Didn’t that cause that old man in Nehetaly to have a heart attack so they had to take off the market?” Gamzee nods, grinning. “Is that how you’re still conscious and your liver hasn’t imploded in futility? I mean, does that _work_?”

“It didn’t _not_ work.” Gamzee counters, “Now if you excuse me, there is a sundrinker, a chalk-eating tool, and a lonely crab waiting for me in my cab. We’re gonna have a motherfucking orgy in the air vents.”

Gamzee then proceeds to walk into your closet and stand there. You…are trying your best not to laugh as you sit on your daybed, watching him.

After three minutes of standing in your closet, Gamzee reaches a conclusion, “…I have been motherfucking misled.”

You raise an eyebrow and decide to turn back to your episode. As long as he isn’t breaking anything, you should let him be. Hopefully he’ll pass out before Rufioh knocks on the door wondering what all the noise is (if Rufioh is even home).

“Should I be worried that you’re a more articulate when you’re wasted?” you ask, unpausing your episode of Pupa Pan and the Gamblignants.

Gamzee is rustling through the closet. “Hey, what’s all these clothes in here for? It’s all green and sparkly and shit.”

“For cosplay, and not all of them are green.” you say.

“Cosplay?” 

You sigh, “I used to be really into dressing up in costumes when I was a kid. It was a lot of fun when I was in the chair because I could be someone different…”

You could pretend to be someone who wasn’t a cripple; you could pretend that you could still walk, pretend that you were brave, that you could stand up to others, and that your anger could be taken seriously. You could be Pupa Pan and that would be okay. As you got older, you started to wear things to make you feel attractive despite all the scars from your accident. 

More rustling in the closet. “You got wings too…?”

You roll your eyes, “It was a _real long_ time ago. I don’t do that stuff anymore.”

“Why the motherfuck not?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

You groan, “Do we _have_ to get into this?”

“If you tell me any embarrassing shit, odds are I won’t remember.” he points out with a grin.

You grumble, not really wanting to drag up _those_ feelings again. Gamzee then adds the clincher to this conversation by adding, “I’m your matesprit. Ain’t you s’posed to trust me?”

You have no idea if you flush Gamzee or not. Admittedly, he’s kind, affectionate and gentle to you when no one else has ever been. He knew how to get you aroused and never showed any flares of annoyance or attitude, unless Nepeta was in the area. You still enjoy bulgeteasing him—giving sly touches and staying nimbly out of his grasp, just to see if he’ll chase you or tackle you. The only difference is that now you don’t mind being caught and covered in playful nips and kisses, having him pant on your face and neck.

You haven’t had sex though. He hasn’t pressured you to. You’re not sure if, or when, you’d feel comfortable with sex. You don’t know how long Gamzee will wait either. You’re uneasy about what will happen when your heat cycle rears its ugly pheromone stinking, fertility-glaring head. You still have a month’s worth of birth control but it can’t mask your pheromones. It can always fail though, and you’d rather not end up like your parents and stay quadranted because you had a kid together. That’s a pain in the ass on an entirely different level. 

“…Tavbro?” Gamzee asks.

“Its way too fucking late for this…” you grumble and then say, “…after I had my surgery, it was…hard to move and a lot harder to get dressed. Plus I got involved with Hanael…you know how that went. I don’t know. Maybe all the fantasy and whimsy got sucked out of me during that time. And with the scars…I just couldn’t ignore how I felt about myself anymore. I could walk again but I still felt…well, not pretty. Not whimsical. Not magical. I felt dirty. And ugly and not even dressing up could make me feel better about myself. So I stopped.”

“That’s motherfucking sad.”

You shrug. “Its in the past. What can you do about what’s already happened?”

“So you don’t like fairies and shit anymore?”

“I don’t know…I still like stories of adventure, maybe for the nostalgia. I think I’ve sort of moved past old folkloric fairytales and more into urban fantasy sort of stuff, like what Troll Holly Black writes or Troll Neil Gaiman…”   

“You ain’t ugly, Tav.”

“I know. I just…feel that way sometimes. It’s hard not to feel ugly or disgusted after…everything that happened.”

That and you don’t really trust your gut feelings anymore. You don’t trust quadrants easily either. You originally had wanted Hanael in a quadrant and look how that turned out. You like Gamzee but you also want to keep him at arm’s length until…until…fuck, you’re not sure _when_ but its definitely going to be until you feel comfortable around him.

Gamzee is silent for a while. You guess that he passed out or found something in the closet to preoccupy himself. Maybe he’s reading with his newfound intelligence. You have tons of fairytales and whatnot stored in there that you no longer have interest in and yet can’t bear to throw away. You go back to watching your episode and eagerly wait for Pupa Pan’s moment of kismesistude with the Grand Hook. The Grand Hook is definitely one of your favorite characters—eloquent, pompous, a mutant seatroll that lacked the gills to even be underwater for long. You’ve written plenty of fanfiction for their kismesistude, along with a few one-shots dedicated to your favorite ship Tinker Klaang <3< Wendee (or Tinker Maidens as its called).

You watch the Grand Hook challenge Pupa Pan to a heated, definitely pitcherotic, battle when you feel something sit beside you on your daybed. Gamzee purrs and you feel his lips brush over the tips of your ears. He nibbles the points and runs a claw down your ribs. 

“ _Gamzee_ …what are you _doing_ …?” You look at your maybe-matesprit and your jaw slackens. “Scratch that…what are you _wearing?_ ”

Gamzee grins. The scarred purpleblood is squeezed inside a tight white dress and has slipped on your old, purple wings. You remember you were disappointed you couldn’t find a blue shade like the wings Tinker Klaang has, but the purple were just as pretty—glittery with a clown face on it. You had gotten them half-off because it was traditional Mirth Gras garb and Walgreens always had a sale the day after. The dress is white with cerulean lace along the edges—now falling apart due to age and neglect.

Gamzee gives you a big smile and kisses you again, “I’m the good fairy, motherfucker. Here to make all your dreams come true.” 

You stare at the dress, “That was like…a baggy ballroom gown when I wore that. Now it’s so…”

Short. The word you’re looking for is _short_ and _tight_ and you can definitely see his purple bulge wiggling under the white surface. Looks like Gamzee isn’t getting whiskey-bulge anytime soon.

Gamzee smiles and hikes up the skirt (which honestly needs no hiking because it is already short as fuck). His bulge writhes out, most likely happy that its no longer trapped in cloistering fabric. Under the bulge, you can see the wet slit of his nook. 

You raise an eyebrow, “I don’t know what’s going through your brain right now, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Gamzee continues smiling and purring. He climbs on top of you, determined to ‘grant your wish’ like a very lewd giant fairy. “It’s the best motherfucking idea I’ve had all day, Tavbro…”

He moves closer to you and rubs your horns. His eyes are still rather dazed and his grey skin flushed with indigo. You hold up your hands as Gamzee moves to climb over you. He sits up the entire time, gazing down at you.

You look up at the large, scarred troll. This is ridiculous. He’s dressed up in the tightest, laziest Tinker Klaang cosplay ever with his bulge wriggling around in your face.

“W-wait…hold on a minute. Gamzee. _Gamzee._ You’re not thinking straight. I don’t…think this is a good idea…”

“Uh huh…”

He’s not moving to tackle you though. He’s not even trying to take off your clothes. His bulge is now inches from your face, fully uncurled and squirming away from his body. His nook is dripping with pale purple genetic fluids, clearly aroused and wanton. You hear Gamzee whine with need and his bulge rubs against your cheek, spreading a cold sticky tail against your warm skin.

You stare up at the flushed purpleblood, “You, uh, you want me to…?”

Gamzee gasps and angles his hips up so, his nook is exposed to you. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. Yeah, you’ve seen more nooks and bulges than you’d care to admit to but you’ve never had anyone…well, Gamzee’s essentially presenting to you. Presenting is something a troll does when they want to mate; when they’re really flushed for someone and want to have their offspring.

You’ve never had anyone present to you. Hell, _you’ve_ never presented to anyone. In fact, you’ve never even eaten out anyone’s nook before; you were just a fuck-toy after all and just there to humiliate and laugh at.

You lick your lips, “I...I never…” Fuck, you’re blushing even more now that you’re looking at his wet nook. “Never did this before…”

“First time for everything, motherfucker…” 

That’s true enough. This is sort of a big fucking deal. Purplebloods are pretty infamous for being touchy about their nooks. So either Gamzee’s defenses are lowered because he’s an energetic drunk, or this is really an act of trust.

You smile, still blushing, and lick the slit. Gamzee moans loudly and grinds his hips against your face. The outside of his nook is tight, refusing to let anything inside but you work at it with your tongue—licking and stroking, trying to find a proper rhythm. You hear the purpleblood moan again and his muscles relax, finally letting your tongue venture inside. Inside his nook, he’s already slick with his genetic fluids—the taste of which is difficult to decipher. You’ve learned that every troll has a different taste to his genetic fluids.

 

His nook clenches and flexes around your tongue. You grab onto Gamzee’s hips with a playful growl, encouraging him to keep grinding on your face. The daybed rocks and you hear your husktop clatter on the floor. Fuck it. You want to keep eating out this purpleblood, trying to figure out the taste of his genetic fluids. You play Gamzee like a violin with your tongue; learning that every twist or turn makes him moan or pant at a different octave or for a different length of time.

“Oh…oh fuck! Yes! _Oh fuck!_ ”

You get a mouthful of purple genetic fluids and only now do you realize what the taste it. It’s tart and sugary, like wine mixed in the same sugary syrup they put canned fruit in. Gamzee pants and you give his glute a pleased, possessive squeeze (which is another thing you’ve never done until now). The purpleblood gasps and pulls away from your face, leaving a thin trail of genetic fluids and saliva connecting your mouth and his nook.

You wipe at the sticky genetic fluids now smeared on your chin and lips, “Fuck. You practically humped my _face_.”

Gamzee grins and leans back, still sitting on your waist, “You expecting anything different from a motherfucking highblood?”

You smirk, “I thought you’d be all for having me on the bottom to be honest.”

Gamzee snorts, and unzips your pants, “You act like I don’t gotta nook that wants attention too.”

Of course that was what he wanted…not that you’re going to object to it now. There’s still feeling in your bulge. Apparently your bulge agrees with Gamzee’s ideas because as soon as the purpleblood slides your boxers off, it’s moving around and ready for his nook. Gamzee grins like he’s found a treasure chest and its filled with Faygo and vodka.

“I don’t have protection…” you say.

Gamzee runs a claw down the length of your bulge. You shudder and watch his nook start to drip again, eager for penetration. “Quit motherfucking worrying so much. It’s gonna be fine.”

“Never did this before either…”

“More reason to motherfucking do it. Ain’t like you been a lousy lay before.”

Gamzee spreads his legs and without further warning slides his nook over the tip of your bulge.

Well…

This is fucking strange. It’s like you stuck your bulge in-between two slabs of defrosted uncooked steak. That’s probably a disgusting and not erotic at all metaphor and— _fuck_ —you really don’t know what to do. Gamzee seems a little unsteady sitting your bulge at first. You feel his nook tighten around your bulge, trying to stay as still as possible. You’re pretty sure that the tightness in his nook means he’s never had it in his nook or it has been a while he had taken a bulge. The inside of his nook is ribbed, with what you’re not sure are scars or just a difference in how a coldblood nook feels.

Then Gamzee rocks his hips and desire shoots down your bulge. That does the fucking trick and soon you can’t stay still. He holds onto you—moaning, gasping, and your daybed once again starts creaking loudly. Fuck, you don’t care if the daybed breaks and the both of you collapse on the ground. You’re going to get all you can out of this nook. _Fuck_ , this is wonderful. You need to get Gamzee drunk more often so you can have him ride you again.    

The climax is even better, considerably more fulfilling than just having Gamzee’s mouth on you. You collapse on the bed, panting and poleaxed like you just ran a marathon. Gamzee collapses next to you but he’s not out. The caffeine must still be in his system. He kisses you (all tongue) and then climbs out the window—wings and stained shirt included.

And then he’s gone. Down the road you guess.

Well then.

That’s probably not good, but you’re too tired to yell or even chase after him about him running around the neighborhood and flashing his genitalia for all to see. Hopefully, he won’t get arrested.

You rescue your husktop from the floor and log into Trollichum. You see Terezi is online and decide to troll her because why the hell not? After getting laid, you’re wide awake and not ready to go to sleep.

 

\--adiosToreador began trolling gallowsCalibrator!—

AT: yOU’RE STILL UP?

GC: SO 4R3 YOU

AT: i THOUGHT YOU’D BE GETTING YOUR ‘BEAUTY SLEEP’,

GC: K4NKR1 H4D 4 N1GHTM4R3 SO 1’M ST4Y1NG UP W1TH H1M UNT1L H3 C4LMS B4CK DOWN

GC: WH4T 4R3 YOU DO1NG UP?

AT: wELL,

AT: mY MAYBE BOYFRIEND JUST SHOWED THE FUCK UP OUT OF NOWHERE, DRUNK,

AT: dRESSED UP AS tINKER kLAANG,

AT: hAD ME GO DOWN ON HIM,

AT: rODE MY BULGE,

AT: aND THEN TOOK OFF INTO THE NIGHT LIKE THE FAIRY OF PORNOGRAPHY,

GC: TH4T SOUNDS R4TH3R S3R1OUS

AT: nO HE WAS PRETTY MUCH FRIENDLY AND DOPEY THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE THING,

AT: i’M SURE HE’LL WAKE UP TOMORROW WITH A BITCH OF A HANGOVER AND REALIZE WHAT HE’S DONE WITH ASCENDING LEVELS OF HORROR,,,

GC: NO 1 M34NT TH3 WHOL3 YOU GO1NG DOWN ON H1M

GC: TH4T’S 4 B1G D34L FOR 4 PURPL3BLOOD

AT: i KNOW, i FIGURED IT WAS THE ALCOHOL LOWERING HIS INHIBITIONS OR MAYBE HE’S GETTING MANIC BECAUSE THE FERTILITY CYCLE IS COMING,

 

You really don’t hope it’s that last thing.

 

GC: OR 1TS SOM3TH1NG H3 4LW4YS W4NT3D TO DO BUT W4S 1NS3CUR3 4BOUT SO TH3 4LCOHOL H3LP3D H1M GO AFT3R 1T

AT: wAIT,,,,

AT: iNSECURE,,,

AT: hOW COULD A PURPLEBLOOD BE INSECURE? tHEY’RE THE SIZE OF HOUSES,

GC: TH4TS SORT OF TH3 RE4SON FOR 1NS3CUR1TY

GC: WH3N YOU’R3 R41S3D TO B3 4GGR3SS1V3 OR TOLD TH4T YOU’R3 TH3 STRONG3ST H3MOTYP3 TH3R3 1S 1TS H4RD TO L3T YOURS3LF OP3N UP 4ND B3 VULN3R4BL3 TO SOM3ON3 3V3N SOM3ON3 YOU L1K3

AT: sO,,,,HIM PRESENTING IS ESSENTIALLY SAYING “I TRUST YOU WITH MY LIFE”?

GC: 1 TH1NK H3S TRY1NG TO 3ST4BL1SH TRUST W1TH YOU

AT: tRUST,

GC: H3 W4S 1N PR1SON FOR 4 V3RY LONG T1M3 4ND TRUST 1S H4RD TO F1ND 1N PR1SON

AT: i THOUGHT AMETHYST WAS A REHAB AND RESEARCH PLACE TOO THOUGH?

GC: 3V3N THOUGH 4M3THYST L1K3S TO PR3T3ND 1TS 4 R3H4B1L1T4T1ON C3NT3R 1TS 4 PR1SON PL41N 4ND S1MPL3

GC: TH3Y TOSS 4LL TH31R COLDBLOOD 1NM4T3S 1N 4 HOL3 TH3Y K33P TH3M TH3R3 4ND TH3Y 3XP3R1M3NT ON TH3M TO K33P TH31R FUND1NG GO1NG

GC: G4MZ33 W4S 1N PR1SON FOR 4 V3RY LONG T1M3 4ND W3 4LL KNOW WH4T H4PP3NS 1N PR1SON 3SP3C14LLY TO 4 YOUNG TROLL

GC: TH3 4DD1CT1ON 4ND TH3 3XPOSUR3 TO 4BUS3 4T 4 YOUNG 4G3 1S PROB4BLY WHY TH3 COURTS W3R3 SW4Y3D TO L3T H1M GO

AT: wHY DID THEY EVEN DECIDE TO LET HIM GO IF HE’D BEEN IN PRISON FOR THAT LONG?

GC: 3V3RY F1V3 Y34RS OR SO TH3Y R3V13W TH3 C4S3S FOR 1NM4T3S 4ND G4MZ33 C4M3 UP

GC: 4PP4R3NTLY TH3 W4RD3N THOUGHT TH4T H3 W4S YOUNG 3NOUGH TO FUNCT1ON OUTS1D3 1N SOC13TY 4ND TH4T 1F H3 ST4Y3D 1N TH3 PR1SON 3NV1ROM3NT H3 WOULD D13

GC: SH3 M4D3 4 V3RY COMP3LL1NG C4S3 4PP4R3NTLY 4ND FROM WH4T KURLOZ H4S TOLD M3 G4MZ33 COLL4PS3D DUR1NG TH3 H34R1NG SO TH4T H3LP3D TH31R CAS3

AT: sO THE WARDEN OUT OF THE GOODNESS OF HER HEART VOUCHED FOR SOME sat TROLL?

AT: bULLSHIT,

GC: K4NKR1 4ND 1 BOTH C4M3 TO TH3 CONCLUS1ON TH4T SH3 H4D B33N BR1B3D BY SOM3ON3 W1TH1N TH3 PR1SON

AT: wHO WOULD BRIBE THE WARDEN TO LET gAMZEE GO FREE?

GC: 4 LOT OF G4NGS R3CRU1T OR K33P CONN3CT1ONS 1N TH4T PR1SON SO 1TS MOST L1K3LY TH3 C4PR1CORN BROTH3RHOOD

GC: K4NNY 4ND 1 H4V3 B33N T4LK1NG 4 LOT 4BOUT HOW UNB4L4NC3D TH3 L3G4L SYST3M 1N N3W J4CK C1TY 1S 4MONG OTH3R TH1NGS

AT: lIKE WHAT EXACTLY?

GC: W3LL YOU KNOW

GC: H3LP1NG K4NNY T4LK 4BOUT TH3 4TT4CK S33MS TO C4LM H1M DOWN H3LP H1M COLL3CT H1S THOUGHTS

GC: WH1CH BR1NGS M3 TO MY OTH3R PO1NT

AT: i FIGURED THERE WAS A REASON YOU BROUGHT THAT UP,

GC: 1 W4S GO1NG OV3R 1T 1N MY H34D LOG1ST1C4LLY 4ND 1 R34L1Z3D TH4T TH3 ONLY PURPL3BLOOD WHO COULD H4V3 4TT4CK3D K4NKR1 H4D TO B3 G4MZ33

AT: HE WAS FOUND INNOCENT,

GC: NO

GC: NO H3 W4SN’T

GC: H3 W4S UNT3ST3D B3C4US3 OF H1S 4G3 4ND S4T ST4TUS WH1CH M34NS TH4T 3V3N 1F H3 SHOW3D UP POS1T1V3 H3 WOULD H4V3 B33N L3T GO OF CH4RG3S DU3 TO THOS3 C1RCUMST4NC3S

AT: sO YOU THINK HE DID IT AND USED HIS SAT TO AVOID CHARGES,

GC: 1 SUSP3CT 4S MUCH

AT: iNTERESTING,

GC: WH4T DO3S TH4T M34N

AT: eXACTLY AS I SAY IT MEANS, i GUESS,

GC: 1F 1TS TRU3 TH4T G4MZ33 R4P3D K4NKR1 WOULD YOU L34V3 H1M

AT:,,,,,i DON’T KNOW, 

GC: WH4T DO YOU M34N YOU DON’T KNOW

AT: iT MEANS WHAT i JUST SAID IT MEANS,

AT: mAYBE ITS BECAUSE OF hANAEL’S ABUSE OR KNOWING THAT gAMZEE IS AN EX-CON AND HAS COMMITTED PLENTY OF CRIMES, BUT ITS NOT MY CONCERN RIGHT NOW, 

AT: iF HE HURTS ME, HE GOES BACK TO JAIL,  
AT: tHAT’S ALL i CARE ABOUT,

GC: R4P3 1S ST1LL R4P3 T4VROS

GC: DON’T YOU C4R3 4BOUT WH4T H4PP3N3D TO K4NKR1

AT: wELL, yEAH I CARE, i’M NOT FUCKING HEARTLESS, BUT„,

 

You sigh. You honestly wish you were talking about Hanael’s abuse; talking about the abuse is so much easier than talking about this.

 

AT: tEREZI WE LIVE IN A NEIGHBORHOOD WHERE THIS SORT OF THING HAPPENS A LOT,  
AT: yEAH IT MAKES ME ANGRY TOO THAT THIS HAPPENS TO WARMBLOODS BUT i CAN’T GET UP IN ARMS FOR THINGS THAT HAVE ALREADY HAPPENED,   
aT: i’M NOT SAYING i’M OKAY WITH WHAT HAPPENED TO kANKRI, YOUR MATESPRIT, OR THAT IT WASN’T TRAUMATIC, 

AT: i’M JUST„„„NUMB TO THAT SORT OF THING AFTER WHAT HAPPENED TO hANAEL, 

AT: i KNOW gAMZEE IS A BAD PERSON BUT HE IS THE LESSER OF TWO EVILS, 

AT: iT WAS EITHER HOOK UP WITH gAMZEE OR DEAL WITH THE ubk, 

AT: sO i CHOSE THE OPTION THAT WOULD ALLOW ME TO KEEP MY SANITY, 

GC: 1 HOP3 YOU R34L1Z3 YOUR3 TR4D1NG ON3 D3MON FOR 4NOTH3R 

AT: i KNOW ITS FUCKED UP BUT WE ALL LIVE IN A FUCKED UP SITUATION, 

AT: gAMZEE HAS BEEN IN AMETHYST SINCE HE WAS A YOUNG, 

AT: aND WE BOTH KNOW WHAT INEVITABLY HAPPENS TO PEOPLE IN PRISON,

GC: SO YOU’R3 OK4Y B31NG M4TSPR1TS W1TH 4 P3RSON WHO M1GHT B3 4 R4P1ST

AT: i NEVER SAID i WAS OKAY WITH IT,

AT: i’M JUST NUMB TO IT, tEREZI, nUMB TO VIOLENCE I GUESS,

AT: i’M NO LONGER THE SORT OF PERSON WHO CAN JUDGE PEOPLE OR TURN UP THEIR NOSE AT THOSE WHO ARE CRUEL AND VIOLENT, BECAUSE i AM A BAD PERSON TOO,

GC: YOU’R3 NOT 4 B4D P3RSON T4VROS

AT: yES i AM,

AT: i WENT TO gAMZEE KNOWING HE’D KILL HANAEL,

AT: yEAH i COULD HAVE REQUESTED THAT gAMZEE NOT KILL HIM BUT i DIDN’T BECAUSE i WANTED THE BASTARD DEAD,

AT: i’M NUMB ENOUGH TO THE POINT WHERE i NO LONGER VALUE SENTIENT LIFE, SO i AM A BAD PERSON

GC: T4VROS TH4T’S D1FF3R3NT

GC: YOU W3NT THROUGH 4 TR4UM4T1C 3XP3R13NC3 W1TH H4N43L SO OF COURS3 YOU WOULD F33L 4 L1TTL3 B1T NUMB

GC: 1T DO3SN’T M4K3 YOU 4 B4D P3RSON

AT: uGH, tEREZI, NO,

AT: i AM NOT FUCKING TRAUMATIZED,

AT: i’VE JUST ACCEPTED THINGS AS THEY ARE,

AT: tHERE’S NOTHING TRAUMATIC ABOUT THAT,

GC: T4VROS DO YOU H4V3 TROUBL3 SL33P1NG 4T N1GHT

 

The question catches you off guard. Now that you think about, your sleep has been rather sporadic since last summer. You usually only sleep when you’re too exhausted to care about what’s going on or undisturbed by the loudness around you. You once went two days without sleep before passing out. You frown.

 

AT: wHAT DOES THAT EVEN FUCKING MEAN?

GC: DO YOU?

AT: sOMETIMES AND i DON’T SEE WHAT THAT HAS TO DO WITH ANYTHING,

GC: DO YOU H4V3 N1GHTM4R3S 4BOUT YOUR T1M3 W1TH H4N43L OR TH1NGS L1K3 TH4T

 

The nightmares are rather sporadic but you often can’t avoid the sudden onset of self-disgust or having a stranger brush up against you and be afraid that they’re going to make you strip. You’d rather not think about it.

 

AT: sTOP TRYING TO PSYCHOANALYZE ME,

AT: i DO NOT HAVE FUCKING PTSD,

GC: 1’M ONLY TRY1NG TO H3LP BUT YOU DO H4V3 SYMPTOMS OF 1T

GC: 1 KNOW YOU’R3 GO1NG TO S4Y NO BUT YOU SHOULD R34LLY T4LK TO 4 DOCTOR

AT: nO,

AT: nO MORE FUCKING DOCTORS,

GC: T4VROS

AT: i’M GOING TO BED, i HAVE A TEST TOMORROW,

\--adiosToreador ceased trolling gallowsCalibrator!—

 

You really don’t have a major test tomorrow but Terezi doesn’t know that. Her freaky taste-touch-smell powers can’t pick up on lies (or that’s what you keep telling yourself as you shut down the husktop). You get off the daybed and tug off your boxers. You need a shower and then a long soak in your recuperacoon. Maybe you’ll turn up the sopor concentrate a bit higher so you can get enough rest. 

* * *

You are not bothered, thankfully, for the rest of the day. You turn in your History test, avoid Terezi and any discussions of your ‘traumas’, talk to Jade about how you broke up with Hanael (since you knew she’d be more than happy to hear that), and then you return home to relax.

You’re not interrupted until two in the afternoon. You’ve taking a break from Pupa Pan and the Gamblignants to check out this ‘Homebent’ thing you’re seeing all over Jade’s Trollumblr. From what you’ve gathered from Trollumblr, its incredibly, long, strange, and complicated with an assortment of odd characters that have all died multiple times at one point. You’re not used to reading a literal wall of (incredibly colorful) text on a computer screen either, so that’s going to take some getting used to. You might as well give it a shot though. You’re only on page two and so far things are…strange. Incredibly strange. You have no idea what in the fuck this is headed.

 

At least it’ll give Jade and you something to talk about again, despite how incredibly odd that something is. You’re in the middle of reading about this newly introduced, second troll character (apparently a lavenderblood named Rossin Lalone who they say is male but looks and acts suspiciously feminine) when your Trollichum flashes with a message.

The handle is one you don’t recognize, but you open the window anyways.

 

\--terminallyCapricious began trolling adiosToreador!—

TC: OkAy.

TC: So.

TC: AbOuT lAsT nIgHt.

 

You smirk, having solved the mystery of who this is in record time.

 

AT: hOWS THE HANGOVER TREATING YOU, gAMS?

TC: LiKe i gOt a nEsTfUl oF MoThErFuCkInG StInGbEaStS In mY BrAiN AnD I HaTe eVeRyThInG AnD EvErYoNe.

AT: sTINGBEASTS,

AT: yOU TALK LIKE AN OLD MAN SOMETIMES YOU KNOW THAT?

AT: iF i DIDN’T KNOW YOU IN REAL LIFE I’D ASSUME YOU WERE ONE OF THOSE OLD COOTS ON gUNNER rOAD THAT WAVES HIS CANE AT THE NEIGHBORHOOD KIDS AND DEMANDS THEY GET OFF HIS LAWNRING BEFORE HE SICCS HIS BARKBEAST ON THEM,

TC: Go fUcKiNg fIgUrE SiNcE I SpEnT MoSt oF My tImE WiTh mY OlD MaN.

TC: BuT HoLd oN OnE MoThErFuCkInG MiNuTe lEt mE FuCkInG FoCuS.

TC: AbOuT LaSt nIgHt.

AT: wHAT ABOUT IT,

TC: WhAt hApPeNeD?

AT: yOU DON’T REMEMBER?

TC: OnLy eNoUgH To rEmEmBeR Me gRiNdInG My nOoK Up aGaInSt yOuR FaCe aNd nOw i gOtTa a nOoKfUlL Of pEaNuT BuTtEr cEpT It wAsN'T PeAnUt bUtTeR It wAs sOmEtHiNg eLsE CaUsE I TrIeD To tAsTe iT.

AT: wHY WERE YOU TASTING IT,,,,wHY,,,wHY WOULD YOU DO THAT,

TC: Oh FuCk yOu i wAs sTiLl dElIrIoUs aNd i tHoUgHt mAyBe i'd sTuCk mY BuLgE Or sOmEtHiNg iN SoMe pEaNuT BuTtEr oR TrIeD To mAkE A SaNdWiCh.

AT: iN,,,,YOUR NOOK?

TC: YeS.

AT: wHAT,,,

TC: LoNg sToRy sHoRt iS ThAt i'vE DoNe sTrAnGe tHiNgS.

AT: tHAT RAISES A LITANY OF MORE QUESTIONS THAN IT ANSWERS,

AT: bUT YEAH WE DID HAVE SEX, tHAT IS NOT PEANUT BUTTER,

AT: hOW YOU COULD EVEN MAKE THAT MISTAKE i DO NOT EVEN THINK i WANT TO FULLY UNDERSTAND,

TC: AgReEd.

AT: bY THE WAY ARE YOU FEELING,,,,WELL, QUEASY OR ANYTHING?

TC: WhAt?

TC: WaIt.

TC: ArE YoU FuCkInG AsKiNg iF I'M KnOcKeD Up?

AT: wELL YEAH,

AT: wE SORT OF FUCKED IN AN IRRESPONSIBLE WAY LIKE EVERYONE ELSE IN THIS TRAILERPARK RIGHT NOW, tHERE MUST SOME FEVER OF YOUTHFUL STUPIDITY GOING AROUND CAUSED BY SUMMER AND TOO MUCH FREE TIE,

TC: I AiN’T tHoUgH.

AT: hOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?

TC: I CaN'T.

AT: wHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ‘CAN’T’?

TC: RaThEr nOt gEt iNtO It.

AT: wHY NOT?

TC: BeCaUsE It eNdS WiTh mE GeTtInG A KnIfE To tHe gUt aNd iT aIn’T rEaLlY SoMeThInG I LiKe tO MoThErFuCkInG TaLk aBoUt EsPeCiAlLy wHeN I AlReAdY GoTtA BiTcH AnD A HaLf oF A HeAdAcHe tO DeAl wItH.

AT: aLRIGHT POINT TAKEN,

 

You will take pains to remember that Gamzee can’t get knocked up (according to him) so you can have all the irresponsible sex you want. Yes. Good.

 

AT: iTS EASY TO FORGET YOU WERE IN PRISON UNTIL YOU SEE THE SCARS i THINK,

AT: uSUALLY THEY DON’T JUST LET YOU GO AFTER YOU BEEN IN THERE FOR SO LONG,

AT: eSPECIALLY WITH HOW THE WARDEN IS,

TC: SnOwMaN.

AT: iS THAT HER NAME?

TC: I DoN'T KnOw hEr rEaL MoThErFuCkInG NaMe.

TC: We cAlLeD HeR ThAt bEcAuSe sHe wAs a bItCh wItH A HeArT Of iCe.

AT: sHE MADE A CASE FOR YOU,

TC: BuLlShIt. My fAtHeR BaRgAiNeD Me oUt.

AT: hE DID?

 

You know that Gamzee and Kurloz’s father is the Grand Highblood, a troll who wouldn’teven look at you before breaking you in two…and probably eating you. Or raping you. Or maybe both and not necessarily in that order. Aranea (your history teacher) likened most historical descriptions of him as to some sort of troll barbarian.

So, no, you can’t see the Grand Highblood having any level of compassion for another living thing, especially his own offspring. History can whitewash as much as it pleases but no one—not even modern day trolls—can ignore that traditional Alternian paint used to be made from the blood of culled grubs.

 

AT: wHAT MADE HIM DO THAT?

TC: BeCaUsE I WoUlD HaVe dIeD OtHeRwIsE

AT: dIED?

TC: AlRiGhT. LiStEn.

TC: I WaS SiCk aNd wHeN YoU GeT SiCk iN AmEtHySt yOu gO To tHe hOsPiTaL WhErE ThEy pReTtY MuCh wAiT FoR YoU To dIe oR ThEy dO ExPeRiMeNtS On yOu. tEsTiNg nEw dRuGs aNd sHiT LiKe tHaT.

TC: SoMeTiMeS YoU MaKe iT OuT OkAy.

TC: BuT OfTeN YoU DoN'T.

TC: ThE BrOtHeRhOoD WaNtEd mE OuT BuT SnOwMaN SaId i wAs mOrE VaLuAbLe dEaD ThAn i wAs aLiVe bEiNg yOuNg aNd sHiT.

TC: So mY FaThEr tOoK My pLaCe iN ThE HoSpItAl.

TC: AnD ThAt's hOw i gOt oUt.

AT: iS YOUR FATHER STILL ALIVE OR,,,ALRIGHT?

TC: I DoN'T KnOw.

TC: CoNtAcTiNg pEoPlE OnCe yOu'rE In tHe hOsPiTaL Is sKeTcHy.

TC: I KnEw sOmEoNe wHo wEnT BlInD FrOm tHe dRuGs tHeY GaVe hEr. I PuT HeR OuT Of hEr mIsErY.

TC: MoSt oF ThEm jUsT DeVeLoP SoMe fOrM Of cAnCeR Or mUtAtIoN.

TC: WhAt tHeY Do tO YoU ThErE Is rEaLlY HiT Or mIsS.

AT: tHAT’S HORRIFIC,

 

You may be numb to physical abuse but patient abuse still turns your stomach, especially when it’s in the hands of so called professionals who work within the system. That’s violence on a level you haven’t experienced yet (and you hope _never_ to experience). Your stomach still turns when you hear about animal testing.  

 

TC: It dOeSn’t mAtTeR AnYmOrE. i dOn’t rEmEmBeR AnY Of tHaT ShIt tHaT MuCh. ItS In tHe pAsT.

AT: yOU MUST STILL GET NIGHTMARES,

TC: SoMeTiMeS BuT WhAt dOeS It mAtTeR?

TC: aMeThYsT iS NiGhTmArE CeNtRaL. mOtHeRfUcKiNg nIgHtMaRe fUeL UnLeAdEd sErVeD At tHe nIgHtMaRe sTaTiOn wItH SnOwMaN PuMpInG It oUt fOr eVeRy pUrPlEbLoOd oN ThE MoThErFuCkInG PlAnEt.

TC: I AiN’T No sPeCiAl cAsE, tAvBrO. a mIlLiOn mOtHeRfUcKeRs lIkE Me aRoUnD.

TC: wE JuSt gOtTa dEaL WiTh tHaT ShIt wE WeNt tHrOuGh oR NeVeR LeAvE ThAt sHiT BeHiNd.

 

You sigh and can’t believe you’re going to type this,

 

AT: iF YOU HAVE NIGHTMARES,,,YOU SHOULD COME OVER,

TC: WhY ShOuLd i dO ThAt?

AT: i GET THEM TOO IS WHY,

AT: mAYBE WE CAN SORT OF,,,DEAL WITH IT TOGETHER,

AT: i DON’T KNOW IF ITS VERY FLUSHED OR PALE OF ME TO OFFER THAT BUT i AM OFFERING IT,

TC: WhAt aBoUt yOuR BuTtErFlY MoThEr?

AT: rUFIOH IS BARELY HERE AND YOU AVOIDED HIM LAST NIGHT, SO IT SHOULD BE FINE,

AT: i JUST FIGURE YOU’D WANT TO BE WITH SOMETHING COMFORTING DURING THAT TIME,

AT: bECAUSE i KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE TO HAVE PEOPLE TRY AND BE ‘YOUR FRIEND’ WHEN YOU’RE FEELING MISERABLE AND YOU DON’T WANT THEIR PITY OR THEM TRYING TO PSYCHOANALYZE YOU,

TC: AiN’T ThAt tHe mOtHeRfUcKiNg tRuTh.

AT: sO i FIGURE THAT IF WE’RE GOING TO BE MATESPRITS, WE’D TREAT EACH OTHER LIKE WE WANT, sO NO PSYCHOANALYZING AND NO TRYING TO ‘FIX’ THE OTHER TO BE NORMAL,

AT: wE’RE BOTH ALL KINDS OF FUCKED UP IN OUR OWN WAY SO LET’S NOT FIX THAT, lET’S JUST BE OURSELVES AND NOT MAKE A BIG FUCKING DEAL OUT OF IT, oKAY?

TC: MoThErFuCkInG AgReEd. :O)

TC: HoNeStLy tHoUgHt yOu’d bE OnE Of tHoSe tRoLlS To tRy aNd mAkE Me wAsH AnD CuT My hAiR.

AT: tHAT’S NOT A BAD IDEA,

AT: bECAUSE YOU ARE ALL SORTS OF GRUNGY AND YOUR HAIR NEEDS TO BE CUT,

TC: Aw, FuCk. :O( 

AT: oH DON’T WORRY, i WON’T GIVE YOU A MOHAWK,

AT: aND IF YOU’RE GOOD MAYBE WE CAN MAKE OUT,

AT: oR WHATEVER ELSE COMES UP AFTER THAT, }>:)

TC: “WhAtEvEr eLsE?”

AT: i DO LIKE EATING YOU OUT, AFTER ALL,

AT: }>:)

AT: }> :)

AT: }>:)

TC: Oh.

TC: WeLl.

TC: FuCk tHeN. a hAiRcUt dOeSn’t sOuNd sO MoThErFuCkInG BaD AnYmOrE! hOnK! :O) 

 

You chuckle. The fastest way to get purplebloods to do anything they dislike was through their bulge. You would like to see what Gamzee would look like with paint not smeared on his face and with his hair actually cut; not just tangled and matted. You wonder if this level of care is the beginning of flush. They do say when you’re flushed you want to help the other person so they’re never feel sad around you.

Damaged souls attract one another, you guess. 


End file.
